Every year, most writers take up the National November Writing Challenge aka NanoWrimo, where the goal is to write 50,000 words (full length novel) in 30 days. This boils down to roughly 1667 words per day.
I am one of such writers.
It’s the fifth day and I have written 7,500 words and instead of doing a happy dance and indulging in three cups of black coffee, I’ve been watching this Turkish telenovela that I’m obsessed with [ Erkenci Kus].
Andrew Neel/ Unsplash.com
So, what do you do when you have been writing this story that in your mind is so awesome, but a few words in, it suddenly falls flat?
Should you:
(a) stop writing [ I am extremely tempted to do this because, hey, I have done it before and the number of incomplete manuscripts under my bed outnumber my shoes].
(b) keep writing
(c) ask the world, but surely not google, because you don’t have time to go through over a thousand search results.
(d) take a break, do the opposite of what you really want to do.
If I had a star rating for every time I’ve been pushed into patience by these words and this writing life, then I’d be the queen of stars and could probably trade one or two for a book. This month’s started out in an unexpected way, losing an aunt and my grandfather in a span of fourteen days, certainly has taken it’s toll on my mom and there’s more to be done here and there, but I’m taking each day and each surge of loss as it comes.
The best part is that I’m finally reading Cloud Atlas and can always go on adventures when I cannot seem to write anything.
I have been counting the days to the end of this month and somehow, knowing that we’ve got five days left has me feeling a bit anxious.
When it comes to writing, I could say that this month’s been gracious and I have written one short story series, This Love and managed to wrap up September’s short story series Swazuri.
I also managed to ship a few copies of my books and sold them to friends, and their feedback has been much appreciated.
However, the one question I’ve constantly been asked this month is “when is your next book going to be available?” In the first week of hearing this question, I was more relaxed and quick to give the Writer answer “soon,” but as time went by, I felt choked by it, more like I was failing readers by not releasing a book immediately and in an attempt to please my Mentor, I emailed him the manuscript of Sifuna and he said “it’s rubbish!”Can I just say that there’s no one whose neck I’d love to wring as much as my Mentor’s?
He was right.
I will not aim to please because it’s my name on the book cover. I am the one who is sharing a story with a reader and inviting them to invest in it, so there’s no way I am going to produce something that I know to be incomplete.
Kyle Glenn/ Unsplash.com
So, I started by saying that I was counting the days to the end of October, and this is solely because I am participating in NanoWrimo (check out my profile) hoping to see where my love for this new novel idea will take me.
That’s all there is to say and I’ve got Hillsong’s So Will I ( 100 Billion X) on repeat as I attempt to create an outline for this upcoming writing project.
My mother always warned me about buying half price.
She stopped me from buying sweet bananas when I was in class five. She stopped me from looking through a pile of colorful tops at Kibuye market when I was in class seven and in the supermarket she would tell me “look at the expiry date!”
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I thought I was smart until I walked into Naivas Supermarket and bought two sets of Fa Deodorant (Roll on Sticks) only to get home and realize they were going for half price because they would expire in 14 days.
My mother always warned me about buying half price but all her life she lives as though she is priceless.
It’s from her that I know not to ignore that voice in my head when it tells me otherwise.
It’s from her that I choose to love, let go of love and most of all, not to blame myself for someone else’s actions.
She would always look at me and say “if you truly value something, then half price does not come near it, you can always go above and beyond, but never cut it to half. Well, the best would be to create it then and it’d be priceless, now wouldn’t that be something?”
So, when this love of mine says that I have no heart, I sit back, brew some coffee and think of half price. I think of how far away it is from compromise, and how it can be mistaken for the other. I think of how easy it is to the bear guilt over words that are spoken unto us, words that would become labels, that we wear like our skin, judging us with every breath…and there’s no price I’m willing to pay for that kind of feeling, not even, half price.
It’s 3:15pm as I type this and a big part of me is thinking of standing in the middle of the road and yelling my rage out. The other part of me is seated in the corner sipping coffee, rolling her eyes and saying “like really? ain’t nobody got time for that.” The final piece of me is unmoved wondering when I will get my thoughts together and finally smile or act like the world is okay.
At this point, I simply have no care for all of it.
I am glad that I took time and went in for a much needed book haul.
This month’s brought all kinds of reckoning with it and today was one of those days where I sat back and had to contain everything that I was feeling.
I had seconds of frustration that materialized to rage and from there an absolute sense of calm, I almost laughed out loud about it. Now as I sit here, watching the city come to life, there’s this couple seated at the table in front of me that’s been talking for an hour. The guy has his hand covering the girl’s and she shakes her head once in a while, trying to release her anguish, but he keeps it all in check-I’ve seen him struggle to get her to look into his eyes…and I feel out of odds for simply finding her neck so beautiful!
The kind of luscious cocoa neck that you’d want to run your finger slowly up the spine of it.
It’s been a stream of endless chatter but even as I end this, I know that I am not far from having this kind of feeling in writing and hopefully, for my sake as well as that of the gods of literature, it will materialize to something.
PS: I should probably stop singing and dancing along to Drake’s ‘In My Feelings.’
I swore in between smiles, but you…you know what it means to pull me close and ask me to stay away.
You laughed at this…’how can you not write?’
I swore and even then, the voice inside my head raised a toast to the lie.
I knew that I would write about you. I would say what you left unsaid.
I would make mountains out of one molehill.
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I would wind myself up in my doubts, fears, insecurities until this wedge was drawn between us. It would not be your fault, because hey, the world’s tough on your kind…the world is so harsh that you do as you please, collecting ‘karma points’ as you go your way.
A karma point equals every heart you break.
Every tear shed, every prayer for the universe to wrench your heart out of its cage, every time you said ‘you are the most beautiful girl’ or ‘I love you’ or ‘she means nothing to me’ to every girl. Karma points that the universe redeems when you finally find the one your heart yearns for but she ain’t got time for you.
The voice inside my head said all this as we talked of the beauty within us.
In my own way, I listened to this voice and when you stepped back, choosing to go your way, find your path without a word…I only stood there smiling and wished you well.
I came across a pin that had these insightful and fun questions and decided to respond to them. So, ten questions and ten brief answers, here goes:
What color do you talk in?
Orange and sometimes black
Radio or mp3?
Definitely mp3, radio’s lost it’s lustre
What movie character would you choose to be your parent and why?
Look I already have a Mom who is a Kenyan version of Madea, but for some reason, I wouldn’t mind an extra dosage of crazy, as long as I don’t have to bail her out of jail.
Would you rather have clouds for feet or suns for hands?
Clouds for feet
If you could breathe music, which artist would you choose to inhale and which would you choose to exhale?
Are there things you wished you always had in your bag?
They may be things you have but just don’t always carry them around or they could be things that you do not have but wish you certainly did. I have shared what’s in my bag before and thought why not share the 10 things I wish were always in my bag:
1. An extra vest. I am not a sleeveless kinda girl, but of late the heat in Kisumu has me seriously considering a wardrobe change mid-work.
2. My antiperspirant. Look I believe in applying this stuff once, but sometimes when I see the patch of sweat on my t-shirt, I wonder what I’d be able to do with this in my bag.
3. A pair of flip flops, because hey, I am all about being laid back.
4. A platinum card. Now, who wouldn’t like access to cash that they could spend once or twice on themselves without having to make a mental note of how much goes to what and what?
5. Enough space to carry everything in my bag without being weighed down by it. I need a bottomless bag, like the one that Mary Poppin’s had.
6. A first aid kit. I just saw that the one I want is the size of my lunch box and goes for Ksh. 1295. I’ve got my eyes on that one!
7. Thermos Mug/ Cool portable flask. Look, I am all about my coffee, I’ll have to invest in this. I got one from my Mom for my birthday last year, it’s a cool 500ml black flask, but you know the gods of sheer sleek design be tempting us mundanes on Supermarket shelves. The one I am visualizing as I type this costs Kshs. 1345, so I’ll keep that in mind too!
8. The mute card. Have you ever wanted to mute people for saying something outrageous in public? I need a ‘disappear card’ too for all those trolls on social media.
9. Sunglasses (look, I don’t own a pair, and I am thinking of getting one)
I don’t know what type these are, but they sure look like something I could wear and maybe not cry-when I either (a) lose them or (b) break them
10. Food Container that has fresh fruits. Look, this is just my way of admitting that I am weird, because I am the Queen when it comes to freelancing. No, I do not mean work when I say freelancing, but I can eat while running, sprinting, walking, in a matatu, just snacking! So, this container wish is all about trying to act composed.
What are some of the things you wish were in your bag?
Let me tell you about the time when eating sim sim saved my life.
This was around 2013 and I was working for an organization that had just embarked on community entry in Siaya. It was my duty to work with the local administration and this included doing a census of every village I was assigned.
Have you ever visited fifty four homesteads in six hours?
I visited more than this and given the varying terrain, it meant walking for hours, meeting and greeting everyone I came across and mapping my way through each homestead whilst keeping an eye on landmarks.
On this particular day, I had carried one liter of drinking water and two apples. We got to the location, some place called Boro and had to make our way around a village there and then proceed to another village near the Lake, miles away at Harambee. It sounded like something simple, but by midday, I had already emptied my bottle of water and we had just arrived at Harambee.
I had to visit at least a hundred households by four and I had already consumed my second apple.
It gets to three in the afternoon and we have covered more than half the homesteads. Yes, all thanks to this Village Elder who insisted that I call her “Min Rosa,” and who walked like she was floating on water, especially when we’d be climbing rocks, or walking through cassava and maize plantations. We get to this plain field and I put my bag down and ask her if there is a shop around.
At this point, she looks at me, places her hands on her hips and says “the only shop we have is at Harambee, it’s two hours from here.” Now by this time, my knees are stuck to one another, my breath is coming up short and I know for sure that I am going to die of hunger, thirst or the heat. I am in Siaya somewhere near the lake and hippos love strolling the main land in the evening, and I don’t want to meet a hippo or get eaten by one. I also know that in my condition I cannot outrun the creature!
Min Rosa just stands there, then she says “give me a minute, let me send word to my home,” and she takes off.
I lie down and think of all the jobs that I could be doing. I think of the way I knew I would be a Counselor and now I was dying of thirst in a remote village in Siaya.
Hunger is a beautiful tormentor.
See, as I am lying on that ground, I see this wild plant(Lantana Camara), the Luos call it “Nyabende,” they have these tiny seeds that look like blackberries and are quite tasty. (Don’t ask). The plant itself is a treasure because you could use the leaves as a broom, as an air freshener for your pit latrine, or as tissue paper (and it’s pretty rough on the ass). So, I look at the Nyabende all around me and I think, well, this is like the situation with the Israelites, even though I could use some chicken and chapati, nyabende is just as well.
Nyabende aka Lantana Camara/Photography Art Plus
I try to get up, but cannot move my upper torso. It was like a failed sit-up. So, I keep trying but by this time, I know two things for sure: my vision is blurry and I cannot feel my limbs.
I stay there for a while hoping it’ll pass, but the more I try to blink my eyes, all I see are dark shadows. At this point, I remember, praying, asking God not to let me die out in the sun miles away from my Mom.
When I come to, Min Rosa is on phone beside me, my t-shirt is wet, so is my face and hair. There is a small girl with a blue basin seated beside us and she is looking at me like I fell from the sky.
“Did you get your friend?” I finally ask Min Rosa.
“Yes and now, you decide to die while I have turned my back? Why couldn’t you shout my name? You know the heat is too much but you did not say a thing, we could have asked for a glass of water at the last house we visited, why would you want your people to send me to jail? I have two children and a lazy husband, who will go to the farm when they send me to Kodiaga…”
I remember turning to the girl and asking what she had in the basin. She removed the lesso and right there were these round balls of sim sim. She said she was taking them to the market to sell and I reached into my bag, gave her a hundred shilling note and asked her to empty the sim sims in my bag.
Before she started emptying them, I had already eaten three balls.
I ate some more then it dawned on me that I had no water, so I had to ask Min Rosa to make a stop at the next home so we could ask for drinking water but she shook her head and said “Jogo jojuogi, kidwaro lokri jajuog piti piti to temie” (they practice witchcraft, if you want to be a witch, running naked into the night, then try).
And that is how sim sim saved my life!
By the way, this is what I was talking about:
Wait, did you know that Sesame is gluten-free? Like these seeds are so awesome that the greatest producer of Sesame is Myanmar? Oh, wait and yeah China, India and Mexico too.
It means I got to do most of what I wanted done, and that a cup of coffee was involved, a few good conversations and a walk around town.
However the best part was being able to listen to Kiss Daniel’s Laye without breaking into dance on the street. If you saw some girl in a grey t-shirt, khaki shorts, black ngomas and a maroon back pack dancing in the ‘Plastics aisle’ at Choppies in Kisumu, please don’t rule her out as crazy, she could have been me.
This song right here:
Let’s get a move on, so I have not done much writing given that I was unwell earlier this week. What I have done so far is to take notes and I realized that when you are half dizzy, you can actually come up with some pretty solid stuff, even though I can barely make out what I wrote, I feel quite refreshed.
So, I sent my entry for this years Miles Morland Writing Scholarship. I’d like to submit another entry too for the Commonwealth Writers Short Story Prize. If there’s one competition that I have never failed to submit an entry, it’s got to be the Commonwealth Short story prize, but hey, it’s always a great feeling piling up the regret letters, looking at that email banner and smiling thinking…”I’ll win this.”
On reading:
I am looking forward to reading three titles this weekend:
McMillan Cottom has crafted a black woman’s cultural bible, as she mines for meaning in places many of us miss and reveals precisely how—when you’re in the thick of it—the political, the social, and the personal are almost always one and the same.
How do you recognize the love of your life? Do you have butterflies in your stomach? Do you see showers of sparks and fireworks as soon as he steps into the room? Or, is your big love composed of something quieter? Annie longs for nothing more in her life than someone to love her with his whole heart. With Holden, this wish seems fulfilled, and the two build their own world. But how much pain can happiness bear? When something utterly shocking happens, Annie’s life becomes unstable, and nothing is as it once was. Then, she unexpectedly bumps into her teenage love Seth, and her life is completely thrown off balance—especially when fate intends its own tragic story.
The template comes in three parts provided in three books: 1) The Archetypal Big Debt Cycle (which explains the template), 2) 3 Detailed Cases (which examines in depth the 2008 financial crisis, the 1930’s Great Depression, and the 1920’s inflationary depression of Germany’s Weimar Republic), and 3) Compendium of 48 Cases (which is a compendium of charts and brief descriptions of the worst debt crises of the last 100 years). Whether you’re an investor, a policy maker, or are simply interested, the unconventional perspective of one of the few people who navigated the crises successfully, A Template for Understanding Big Debt Crises will help you understand the economy and markets in revealing new ways.
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